Babies Grow Up...

I remember the yard sale to beat all yard sales. The old lady had about 50 cats strowed about her property, and at least 20 of them inside the house. She talked about how they had their own room, but it seemed to me they were taking over the whole property. It smelled like a sewer. I'm an animal lover, but sometimes folks lose all their good sense when it comes to cats. But meanwhile, this lady had the best junk I've ever come across. There was furniture, silver, quaint knick-knacks, all very beautiful and cheap. Back in one of the rooms was the most adorable Victorian bed -- it had a high headboard and a gorgeous footboard, all curvaceous and sweet. Perfect for our then four-year-old daughter, Elizabeth. It needed some love. I stole it for $100, took it home and dunked it in obnoxious chemicals until all the ugly came off it. Then I whitewashed it and had to glue it back together. All that processing did a number on it. It was smaller than a standard full-size bed, so the Original Mattress Factory made a custom mattress for it. I bought new sheets and bedding, painted her room soft, blush pink and set her upstairs like a big girl. She had begged to be near her three brothers, who were (and still are) akin to a three ring circus. She says now, "All I had to do as a kid was hitch my wagon to theirs and watch the parade." Being the baby and the only girl has its advantages.

Well the baby girl is getting hitched in a few weeks. I helped her and her fiance find a house to start off their life together and we closed on it today. He's going to move in now; Liz is going to stay with us until they get married. I keep reiterating that to people. It's old-fashioned these days to wait for anything, much less THAT. Grace of God. 

Last Saturday, we were packing up some of her extraneous things to go ahead and put in the house. We acquired a queen-sized bed for her to sleep in here until she moves, and took down the sweet little Victorian bed to put into storage. As it was loaded into the truck, my heart skipped a beat. The finality of the changes that are starting to come hit me between the eyes. We raise our children to grow up, mature, become responsible and then leave. When that day comes, the world changes for us forever. That don't mean it's easy.

My job as a mother has shifted many times. Each season brought its joys and stresses, but there's nothing like knowing that what you are doing is important. Raising our children was, to me, the most meaningful job in the world. My responsibilities were obvious, with both the pains and rewards exquisite. The horizon for us women after our children have flown is broad and full of possibilities, but I find that there's simply nothing that compares to the sowing and reaping of investing in the life of a child. 

She's not a youngling...she's already a woman, educated, well-employed, decisive, responsible. I thank God for bringing such a wonderful man for her to marry, and I'm enjoying the heck out of shopping and planning her wedding with her. I'm gonna get through it. But she's still my baby. They all are...